Keith stood in his bent-forward posture and waited. He listened to the empty silence of the room. Then after what seemed like several minutes he heard the sound of a woman's high heels on the hard wooden floor behind him. He craned his neck to look into a dusty wall mirror before him. What he saw both surprised and excited him. The young woman who had received him at Reception had transformed herself into the most exotic leather-clad dominatrix.
He studied her as best he could given his compromised posture. She was only partially dressed, being quite naked save for a pair of high heeled, high black leather boots which extended up over her knees, a tightly nipped black leather corset at her waist, and a pair of elbow length, fingerless, black leather gloves at her forearms and hands. She was pantiless, and the petite, neat slit of her pussy and the soft pale tuft of her pubic hair could be seen in the vee of her thighs. Her long blonde hair, previously held in a ponytail, had been brushed out, and now fell in thick curls about her shoulders. Her large breasts hung like weighty melons, her nipples as broad, pointed pink discs. He longed to see her very shapely bottom.
"Gosh, Miss!" Keith exclaimed, "So you're Miss Strokewell!"
"I am indeed, sir!" she replied, "And you are..?"
"Keith, Miss!"
"Keith! That's a very handsome name!" Keith watched as she withdrew a fine straight whipping cane from a nearby vase. She stepped back to him and tapped its tip across his cloth covered rump. "And what brings you here today, Keith, sir?"
"Been naughty, Miss!"
"Oh yes? Do tell?"
"Been playin' with myself, Miss, through the pocket of my trousers, Miss," Keith whimpered, "whilst chatting with your very pretty receptionist, Miss!"
Keith felt the tip of the cane stroke its way tentatively over his cloth covered rump.
"Oh yes! I'm sure you did! And I'll have you know that I hardly approve of such behaviour! And that I'm going to give you a caning for it!"
"Yes, Miss! Thank you, Miss!"
"And how many strokes do you think i should give you, Keith sir, across this fat bottom of yours?"
"I don't know, Miss! I've never had the cane before, Miss!"
"Oh yes, so you're a new boy! In that case I think that six light but smarting, impressionable strokes might be in order, don't you?"
"Yes, Miss! Thank you, Miss!"
"You're thanking me for them? You most certainly will! You'll count each stroke and thank me for it!"
"Yes, Miss!"
"Right then!" came the authoritative voice, "Here we go!"
Keith looked into the mirror and watched as his pretty young Miss moved behind him and stepped to one side. She tapped the tip of her rod across the middle of his rump to take her aim. Then in one hissing, easily returned stroke, with a practiced twist of her strong forearm and wrist, she lifted it away and then whipped it down hard.
Swish! THWACK!
"Ouch!" Keith grunted. He studied himself in the wall mirror before him. His lips pursed and his eyes widened as a fire lit up across his bottom. That thing stung! It felt as if he were being nipped on the bottom by a bee! "Ooh! Miss!" he grunted. His feet scraped and scrabbled on the floor as his rear end writhed and twisted in a desperate effort to recover.
His Mistress studied his wiggling bottom, her cane held between two fists.
